ANDREW. You should have gone back to col...

ANDREW. You should have gone back to college last fall, like I know you wanted to. You're fitted for that sort of thing---just as I ain't.

ROBERT. You know why I didn't go back, Andy. Pa didn't like the idea, even if he didn't say so; and I know he wanted the money to use improving the farm. And besides, I'm not keen on being a student, just because you see me reading books all the time. What I want to do now is keep on moving so that I won't take root in any one place.

ANDREW. Well, the trip you're leaving on tomorrow will keep you moving all right. (At this mention of the trip they both fall silent. There is a pause. Finally ANDREW goes on, awkwardly, attempting to speak casually) Uncle says you'll be gone three years.

ROBERT. About that, he figures.

ANDREW. (moodily) That's a long time.

ROBERT. Not so long when you come to consider it. You know the Sunda sails around the Horn for Yokohama first, and that's a long voyage on a sailing ship; and if we go to any of the other places Uncle Dick mentions---India, or Australia, or South Africa, or South America---they'll be long voyages, too.

ANDREW. You can have all those foreign parts for all of me. (After a pause) Ma's going to miss you a lot, Rob.

ROBERT. Yes---and I'll miss her.

ANDREW. And Pa ain't feeling none too happy to have you go---though he's been trying not to show it.

ROBERT. I can see how he feels.

ANDREW. And you can bet that I'm not giving any cheers about it. (He puts one hand on the fence near ROBERT).

ROBERT. (putting one hand on top of ANDREW'S with a gesture almost of shyness) I know that, too, Andy.

ANDREW. I'll miss you as much as anybody, I guess. You see, you and I ain't like most brothers---always fighting and separated a lot of the time, while we've always been together---just the two of us. It's different with us. That's why it hits so hard, I guess.

ROBERT. (with feeling) It's just as hard for me, Andy---believe that! I hate to leave you and the old folks---but---I feel I've got to. There's something calling me------ (He points to the horizon) Oh, I can't just explain it to you, Andy.

ANDREW. No need to, Rob. (Angry at himself) Hell! You want to go---that's all there is to it; and I wouldn't have you miss this chance for the world.

ROBERT. It's fine of you to feel that way, Andy.

ANDREW. Huh! I'd be a nice son-of-a-gun if I didn't, wouldn't I? When I know how you need this sea trip to make a new man of you---in the body, I mean---and give you your full health back.

ROBERT. (a trifle impatiently) All of you seem to keep harping on my health. You were so used to seeing me lying around the house in the old days that you never will get over the notion that I'm a chronic invalid. You don't realize how I've bucked up in the past few years. If I had no other excuse for going on Uncle Dick's ship but just my health, I'd stay right here and start in plowing.

ANDREW. Can't be done. Farming ain't your nature. There's all the difference shown in just the way us two feel about the farm. You---well, you like the home part of it, I expect; but as a place to work and grow things, you hate it. Ain't that right?

ROBERT. Yes, I suppose it is. For you it's different. You're a Mayo through and through. You're wedded to the soil. You're as much a product of it as an ear of corn is, or a tree. Father is the same. This farm is his life-work, and he's happy in knowing that another Mayo, inspired by the same love, will take up the work where he leaves off. I can understand your attitude, and Pa's; and I think it's wonderful and sincere. But I---well, I'm not made that way.

ANDREW. No, you ain't; but when it comes to understanding, I guess I realize that you've got your own angle of looking at things.

ROBERT. (musingly) I wonder if you do, really.

ANDREW. (confidently) Sure I do. You've seen a bit of the world, enough to make the farm seem small, and you've got the itch to see it all.

ROBERT. It's more than that, Andy.

ANDREW. Oh, of course. I know you're going to learn navigation, and all about a ship, so's you can be an officer. That's natural, too. There's fair pay in it, I expect, when you consider that you've always got a home and grub thrown in; and if you're set on traveling, you can go anywhere you're a mind to without paying fare.

ROBERT. (with a smile that is half sad) It's more than that, Andy.

ANDREW. Sure it is. There's always a chance of a good thing coming your way in some of those foreign ports or other. I've heard there are great opportunities for a young fellow with his eyes open in some of those new countries that are just being opened up. (Jovially) I'll bet that's what you've been turning over in your mind under all your quietness! (He slaps his brother on the back with a laugh) Well, if you get to be a millionaire all of a sudden, call 'round once in a while and I'll pass the plate to you. We could use a lot of money right here on the farm without hurting it any.

ROBERT. (forced to laugh) I've never considered that practical side of it for a minute, Andy.

ANDREW. Well, you ought to.

ROBERT. No, I oughtn't. (Pointing to the horizon---dreamily) Supposing I was to tell you that it's just Beauty that's calling me, the beauty of the far off and unknown, the mystery and spell of the East which lures me in the books I've read, the need of the freedom of great wide spaces, the joy of wandering on and on---in quest of the secret which is hidden over there, beyond the horizon? Suppose I told you that was the one and only reason for my going?

ANDREW. I should say you were nutty.